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grey. Simon and Marcia could not take their eyes off it. It must have been hot as fire by then. They kept expecting Chair Person to sneeze, since he seemed to have trouble breathing anyway, but he just went on grinding pepper and explaining about cannibals.
    Simon wondered if Chair Person perhaps did not know how to eat. “You’re supposed to put the spaghetti in your mouth,” he said.
    Chair Person held up the pepper mill and shook it. It was empty. So he put it down at last and picked up the spoon. He did seem to know how to eat, but he did it very badly, snuffling and snorting, with ends dangling out of his mouth. Grey juice dripped through his smashed-hedgehog beard and ran down his striped front. But the pepper did not seem to worry him at all. Simon was thinking that maybe Chair Person did not have taste buds like other people, when the back door opened and Mum and Dad came in.

    â€œWhat happened to the rest of the sundial?” said Mum. “I leave you alone just for—” She saw Chair Person and stared.
    â€œWhat have you kids done to those apples?” Dad began. Then he saw Chair Person and stared too.

oth Simon and Marcia had had a sort of hope that Chair Person would vanish when Mum and Dad came home, or at least turn back into an armchair. But nothing of the sort happened. Chair Person stood up and bowed.
    â€œEr, hn hm,” he said. “I am Chair Person. Good snuffle evening.”
    Mum’s eyes darted to the ink blot on Chair Person’s waving sleeve, then to the coffee stain, and then on to the damp smear on his front. She turned and dashed away into the garden.
    Chair Person’s arms waved like someone conducting an orchestra. “I am the one causing you all this trouble with your apples,” he said, in his most crawlingly humble way. “You are so kind to – hn hm – forgive me so quickly.”
    Dad could clearly not think what to say. After gulping a little, he said in a social sort of way, “Staying in the neighbourhood, are you?”
    Here Mum came dashing back indoors. “The old chair’s not in the shed any more,” she said. “Do you think he might be—?”
    Chair Person turned to her. His arms waved as if he was a conductor expecting Mum to start singing. “Your – hn hm – husband has just made me a very kind offer,” he said. “I shall be delighted to stay in this house.”
    â€œI—” Dad began.
    â€œEr, hn hm, needless to say snuffle,” said Chair Person, “I shall not cause you more trouble than I have to. Nothing more than – hn hm – a good bed and a television set in my room.”
    â€œOh,” said Mum. It was clear she could not think of what to say either. “Well, er, I see you’ve had some supper—”
    â€œEr, hn hm, most kind,” said Chair Person. “I would love to have some supper as soon as possible. In the meantime a snuffle flask of wine would be most – hn hm – welcome. I appear to have a raging thirst.”
    Marcia and Simon were not surprised Chair Person was thirsty after all that pepper. They got him a carton of orange juice and a jug of water before they all hurried away to put a camp bed in Simon’s room and make Marcia’s bedroom ready for Chair Person. Marcia could see that Mum and Dad both had the same kind of dazed, guilty feelings about Chair Person that she had. Neither of them quite believed he was really their old armchair, but Mum put clean sheets on the bed and Dad carried the television up to Marcia’s room. Chair Person seemed to get people that way.
    When they came downstairs, the fridge door was open and the table was covered with empty orange juice cartons.

    â€œI – hn hm – appear to have drunk all your orange juice,” Chair Person said. “But I would be willing to drink lemon squash instead. I happen snuffle to know that it has added glucose which puts